


Whaler Assassin Interrogation (2)

by windsweptfic



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored), Mostly-Mute Corvo, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 08:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13096668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsweptfic/pseuds/windsweptfic
Summary: Two Whalers were captured by the Overseers and brought to Holger Square for interrogation. One died by his own hand to a pin of poison in his glove; the other had better fortune.





	Whaler Assassin Interrogation (2)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a...random little ficlet of 'what might have been' if Corvo had come across a captive Whaler while infiltrating Holger Square. References [this](http://dishonored.wikia.com/wiki/Whaler_Assassin_Interrogation) audiograph.
> 
> lbr i just wanted to do something mean

The Interrogation Room was already occupied.

Corvo peered down into the chamber with a frown, Campbell snoring obnoxiously over his shoulder. Two Overseers had a prisoner hanging from the hook in the middle of the room, one standing in front as the other wielded a whip from behind. Each _snap_ of the lash had Corvo flinching involuntarily at just the sound, the welts across his own back throbbing in remembered pain. 

"There's no escape for you anymore, boy," the interrogating Overseer sneered, stepping forward to grip the prisoner's jaw. "You don't have your poison; you don't get your quick death. And you _will_ die, heretic. It's up to you how long that will take."

The prisoner stirred, lifting his head. He was stripped down to just his smallclothes, and when he spoke, Corvo startled at how young he sounded.

"Feels like it's already been an age, with the way you keep going on," he drawled, insouciant and hoarse. His voice rasped rough like sandpaper, and Corvo knew all too well how hours spent screaming could wreck your throat.

He carefully draped Campbell atop the row of pipes he was perched on as the Overseer's face darkened.

"Do you think this is a _game_ , assassin?"

Corvo blinked at the title, brow furrowing contemplatively as he reloaded his crossbow.

"Isn't it always?" the prisoner asked tiredly. "Go ahead and take your pound of flesh, Overseer. I know you've more interest in my screams than my information."

The Overseer's lips curled back in a snarl as he yanked the knife from his belt, lifting it to the prisoner's throat--

Both priests crumpled soundlessly to the floor with green-vialed darts sticking out of their necks.

Corvo dragged Campbell back over his shoulder and dropped down to the floor on light feet. The prisoner tried to look over his shoulder, hissing in pain as the motion tugged at the bleeding stripes across his back.

"Connor? Is that you? Please, tell me you didn't--"

"No," Corvo rasped. He struggled with even just that word, wincing at the sound of his own voice. Talking was...hard, recently. It hurt to speak. 

It hurt to even think about speaking.

He carried Campbell over, dropping him carelessly on the floor as he walked in front of the prisoner. Startled hazel eyes stared at him from a too-young face, widening when they caught sight of his mask. His throat worked as he swallowed nervously.

"You're..."

Corvo just shrugged. He motioned to the hook with a tilt of his head, and after a moment the prisoner--who really was little more than a boy, barely into his twentieth years--nodded slowly. 

"Please."

The lever to lower the chain was on the wall; Corvo pulled it down gently, easing the boy fully onto his feet, giving him enough slack to pull his arms over the hook. He crumpled almost as soon as they were free, and Corvo darted quickly to catch him as he pitched forward, his limbs shaking uncontrollably. 

"Fuck," he rasped, eyes squeezing shut in pain. " _Fuck_."

Corvo hummed in understanding. The weakness of muscles being taut for so long, the pins-and-needles feel of blood rushing back--none of it was pleasant. 

He helped the boy lean against the wall before returning to his original task, hauling Campbell up into the interrogation chair, locking the restraints around his wrists and ankles. The Heretic's Brand lay on a nearby table and he picked it up, studying the symbol on the end. The instructions had said no flame was required: that the acid it was dipped in would be enough to sear the mark into skin. 

Well, one way to test it.

Once Campbell stopped screaming and passed out again, Corvo tossed the brand into a corner of the room before turning back to the boy.

Whose fingers were inches away from a whaling mask that lay discarded on the floor. 

The boy snatched his hand back quickly, alarm flashing across his face for just a moment before being forcibly extinguished. He looked at Corvo, and then at the mask again, his features shuttering. 

He was an assassin. A _Whaler_ , specifically. One of the hired killers that had taken Jessamine's life.

A blade that had been wielded by Hiram Burrows. A mercenary who just completed the jobs he was given.

An exhausted, tortured young man who looked up at Corvo with the despair of someone resigned to death.

Corvo closed his eyes, let out a quiet huff, and reached down to offer his hand.

\---

Samuel barely blinked when Corvo showed up at the Yard docks with a half-conscious Whaler slung over one shoulder.

"Same destination, or are we taking a detour?" he asked as Corvo laid the boy gently in the boat. 

Corvo blinked slowly. He...hadn't really thought that far, honestly. He'd been too focused on getting them both out, the boy attempting to carry his own weight but ultimately failing, his body too taxed to function on its own.

He glanced at said boy, who he'd wrapped in Campbell's plush red High Overseer coat. 

The bastard wouldn't need it anymore, after all, and the night was cold.

"Rudshore," the boy said roughly. "The Flooded District. Just...leave me there."

Corvo frowned, but Samuel just nodded genially and started up the boat, taking them away from the Abbey. As he leaned over to offer the boy a drink of the warm tea from his canteen, Corvo pulled Campbell's black book from his pocket and started flipping through the worn, dog-eared pages. Most of the writings were acronyms and abbreviations that he couldn't recognize, and strings of numbers that didn't make sense. 

Havelock had said that the book would need to be decoded, but Corvo had hoped he'd be able to make sense of it on his own. Even with all the reasons it made sense to trust the Loyalists...

Trust wasn't something that came easy to him, these days.

The _Amaranth_ cut through the Wrenhaven quick and quiet, and Samuel skirted wide of the Hound Pits on their way to the old Financial District. He brought them into the now-abandoned Greaves Refinery, pulling up alongside the old docks as close as he could.

Corvo looked to the young Whaler only to find him passed out, curled into a loose ball at the far end of the boat. He exchanged a glance with Samuel before shrugging, leaning down to scoop the boy up in his arms.

Samuel reached out to touch his wrist as he climbed out of the boat.

"I'll wait here until you're done. But you sure you'll be alright in there, Corvo?"

Corvo nodded, offering the boatman a small, genuine smile behind his mask. Then he shifted the unconscious Whaler in his grasp, reached out through the Void, and _blinked_.

He made his way up past the scores of Weepers, steering clear of the river krusts as he carried the boy through the ruined, flooded buildings, searching for his fellows. He'd just transported onto a rickety bridge when two masked, grey-clad assassins appeared in front of him with their blades raised.

"That's far enough," one of them snarled, taking a step forward. "If you think we're gonna let you just come in and kill our--"

She was cut off as the other grabbed her sword arm, pulling it down.

"Fisher! Fish, that's--"

"Oh. _Oh._ Holy _shit_ , that's--go get--"

Corvo blinked as the other Whaler vanished, glancing down at the boy in his arms, bemused. He looked back up at the one still there, who was slowly sheathing her sword, lifting her hands warily.

"I'm sorry I-- Don't hurt him, alright? I won't do you no harm."

"I...won't," Corvo rasped, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't have the energy to explain that he'd never even intended to as he stood there, awkwardly holding the unconscious Whaler against his chest. 

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long. Three more assassins blinked into existence behind her after just a few moments, two in blue and one in grey, and then another rush of power brought a hauntingly familiar scarred man into sight.

The newcomer in grey let out a sharp, strangled sound, pushing past the others. Corvo froze in place as they launched forward--remembering all too well the sight of masked assassins rushing toward him with intent--but there were no blades extended, no magic used. Just a slim form barreling into him and grasping desperately for the boy in his arms.

" _Thomas!_ Oh, Outsider, be okay, _please_ be okay--"

Corvo relinquished his grip carefully, and the newcomer barely even took a step back before he was sinking to the floor with the boy--Thomas--in his arms. 

When he pulled off his own mask with shaking hands, revealing a mirror image of Thomas' face, Corvo understood why.

"I don't think the Outsider had anything to do with it, Connor."

Corvo glanced back up. The scarred man in red--Daud, the Knife of Dunwall, Jessamine's _killer_ \--was looking at him with an expression that bordered on something like wonder. And Corvo didn't miss the way his eyes darted to the two boys: the relief that slumped his shoulders, the gratefulness that softened his eyes.

"Connor?" an exhausted voice mumbled. Corvo looked down at the young Whalers as Thomas reached up to grasp weakly at his twin's shoulder, sliding his hand up to pat his cheek. "I'm here. 'm fine."

"Bullshit," Connor whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

"Rulfio," Daud said, motioning to the blue-clad Whalers, "Get Thomas to Killian. Misha, take Fisher back to base and tell the others to stand down."

Both Whalers nodded. One laid a hand on the grey-clad assassin's shoulder and disappeared, while the other started forward. Corvo stayed obligingly still as the Whaler lifted Thomas in their arms, the inscrutable mask turning in his direction.

"Thank you," they said softly. 

Corvo didn't get a chance to respond before the Whaler and Thomas blinked away. He had even less of a chance to react as Connor turned toward him with a pale face, hazel eyes shining with unshed tears as he pressed a fist to his chest and bowed deeply.

"My life is yours," he said, voice hitching, "For saving him. If there's anything I can do to repay you-- _Anything--_ "

"Connor," Daud interrupted quietly. Connor lifted his head, glancing over his shoulder just briefly before looking back at Corvo, who could only stand there in stunned silence. 

"I swear it," he insisted. 

Then he blinked out of existence, leaving Corvo and Daud alone.

For a long moment, they stood there in silence.

"It's you, isn't it?" Daud said at last. "Lord Protector."

Corvo shook his head slowly.

"Not anymore."

Daud flinched and lowered his gaze.

"No. I suppose not."

Corvo tilted his head in surprise at that: the regret, the _guilt_ in Daud's voice was almost a palpable thing, hanging between them unspoken. He had wondered on the boatride if he could apply the same reasoning he had to the tortured young Whaler--that he'd just been a pawn, a piece on the board--to the assassins' leader. He'd wondered if his heart would even allow that kind of compassion toward the person he'd watched kill his Empress. 

And as he studied the remorseful shell of a man before him, remembering the open relief on his face at the sight of a young boy safe and well, Corvo thought that it might.

After a while Daud cleared his throat, scrubbing a gloved hand over his face.

"We knew that the Abbey had taken him, but... Going in there is a death sentence. I've forbidden my people from even attempting rescue missions, because we only ever lose more. But you saved him, didn't you?"

Corvo nodded.

"Why?"

There was a plaintive note in Daud's tone, a pleading for understanding, and Corvo pursed his lips as he tried to come up with the words.

"He... They were..." 

After a few moments he gave up on trying to explain the visceral reaction he'd had to seeing the boy being tortured, and just shook his head with a sigh.

"He is very young."

Too young. Far, far too young.

"Yes, he is," Daud said quietly. "I've known him since he was a child. I..."

He lowered his head, and Corvo stared in blank, stupefied shock as the master assassin mimicked Connor's earlier gesture, pressing a fist against his chest and bowing deeply at the waist.

"Thank you for bringing him home."

Corvo swallowed roughly, looking everywhere except Daud, but when the assassin didn't shift he flapped a hand awkwardly.

"It was... Nothing."

"No," Daud corrected, finally straightening up, meeting Corvo's gaze levelly. "No, it wasn't. You saved him, you brought him back here, despite... Despite _everything_. If there was nothing else, I would owe you for that. But with what I..."

He shook his head.

"I have debts to you that can never be repaid," he said softly. "And there are no words enough to apologize for what I've done to you. If you want my life, you are welcome to it. If you want anything else-- _need_ anything else--it is yours."

Corvo frowned. He had no desire for the assassin's life. He had no desire for any kind of bloodshed, not anymore. There was just one thing he wanted, and that...

After a moment of hesitation, he reached into his pocket, pulling out Campbell's journal and offering to Daud.

He couldn't quite grasp trust anymore, but he knew the power of debt.

"I need this."

Daud took the book curiously, glancing up with searching eyes as Corvo pulled the mask off his face. He met the assassin's gaze openly, evenly.

"I need Emily."

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then Corvo saved Emily and had a guilt-ridden Daud + Whalers help him take back the city instead of depending on the sleazy Loyalists! And everything was happy, the end.
> 
> I aged Thomas down a little bit from my own headcanon but I don't feel too bad about it because wtf apparently Billie was supposed to be _twenty-four_ in DH1???
> 
> Dunwall really does suck the life out of you.


End file.
